A Friend In Need
by melles
Summary: Peter has to leave town, El has to deal with an annoying customer and Neal calls in a few favors. You can always count on your friends, right?
1. Chapter 1

**A Friend In Need**

Rating: PG  
Summary: Peter has to leave town, El has to deal with an annoying customer and Neal calls in a few favors. You can always count on your friends, right?  
Pairing: Peter/El, Neal (gen)  
Spoilers: Not really  
Word count: ~ 10.000

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, it's sad but true.

Notes: A huge **THANK YOU** to _last1stnding_ for your incredible help! She wrote the Elizabeth and Peter scenes and gave me much needed insight as well as helpful hints. Also I want to say **THANK YOU** to c_hicca01_ for her help with the translation of the Italian sentences! Mille grazie!

**_Chapter 1_**

Elizabeth Burke scurried around in the predawn darkness, gathering her purse, coat and keys all the while reassuring Satchmo, 'I won't be gone long.' Her husband, Peter, came down the stairs carrying a suitcase and wearing his bad news face.

"I still can't believe I have to fly all the way to Los Angeles for this," he grumbled, trying to negotiate the narrow stairs with the bag and the curious dog at the bottom. "I thought we were supposed to cut back on expenses; instead I get shipped out to a conference that could have been held on the east coast just as well."

Elizabeth smiled, having heard these complaints quite frequently ever since the memo had come down directing that Peter must attend. "Relax," she assured him. "It will be good for you to get away, even for three nights." She ran her hand across the back of his neck and frowned, just a bit. "You've been so tense lately; just pretend you're listening to what they have to say and then go to the bar with your buddies in the evening. Have some fun."

Predictably, Peter frowned and managed to look miserable at the same time as he put down the case and took the coat Elizabeth held out to him in her other hand. "This is a bad time to be gone," he muttered.

"Neal?" she asked.

Peter grimaced. "Who else?"

"Maybe he'll surprise you and behave," El said lightly while mentally making sure Peter had everything.

"That would be the day," Peter said irritably. "El, when he ran out of that office yesterday, he risked the success of the operation, telling the suspect insider information. Just because he had a hunch about our suspect. Not to mention that he put Jones in danger doing this! For a moment there I thought there would be a gunfight and all would end up dead. If he was an agent, I'd write him up for that."

"He's not agent," Elizabeth gently pointed out. "And Jones got himself out of the situation without getting injured."

"That is because Jones is a damn fine agent." Peter put down his case and ran his hand over the back of his neck Elizabeth had just removed her hands from, placing them instead at her husband's waist. "Are you trying to distract me from my totally justified wrath?"

Elizabeth smiled at the husky timbre of his voice. "Hon, I would love to distract you but you have a plane to catch and I have a ton of stuff to do before the party tomorrow night. There is nothing you can do about Neal now, so go out there and have some fun and some Neal free days. You can talk to him when you get back."

Peter remained glum although the light in his eyes shone with the warmth that was for her alone. "All right. I'll call you tonight."

"It might be late; I have to get with the caterer and make sure the florist has everything ready for tomorrow. If G.P. Wilson sees a wilted flower at his board of directors' party, there will be hell to pay." Almost involuntarily, Elizabeth's mind had switched over to the list of things to be done and when she looked at Peter she realized he was smiling. He knew her mind had wandered. Heaven knew she had seen him do it many times. "Oh. I guess you caught me."

Peter pulled her close and kissed her hungrily. "I will **always** catch you. It's my life's work."

* * *

Traffic was bad to the airport and Peter had very little time left to go through security and reach his gate. But El knew if anyone could do it, it would be Peter. She worried, just a little, on the drive back about her husband. He and Neal had been sniping at each other again; at first it was trivial but this last round had Neal running off on impulse and he had inadvertently endangered Jones. The danger had been minimal; well, if one could say having a gun pointed at you for a fast moment was minimal. But it had been completely unnecessary. Peter had exploded, Jones had said a few choice words and Neal, his pride wounded, had stalked off to pout_. Really, men could be so dense at times. _

This had caused Peter a near sleepless night before he left which, in turn, had caused El to lose some sleep even though her husband had tried not to disturb her. Hopefully, upon Peter's return, things would right themselves on their own. If not, perhaps she should arrange a lunch with the two of them. Or knock their heads together. Whatever worked.

Satchmo pulled on his leash ahead of her, relishing the cool day and crisp air. On days like this, he tended to forget his obedience training and the way he was pulling, El wished she had had Peter take him out for a short walk before he left. Oh well. "You're just going to have to put up with your Mom and some short walks for the next day or so," she informed the Lab. "We'll relax for a day and then your father will be home. I'll let you pull him around the block then."

Mentally running through the daunting list of what needed to be done, Elizabeth did not see the squirrel dart out from the small tree ahead. But Satch did. He gave a tremendous pull on the leash and started out in hot pursuit. Taken off guard, El staggered and then her foot caught on a segment of sidewalk that had been raised by the tree's roots. Twisted, her foot rolled sideways under her and unbelievable pain shot up her leg. She nearly fell but managed to hold on to the dog that, reluctantly, had given up on the squirrel and now looked somewhat shame faced back at her.

_Oh, God, this hurts!_ Elizabeth tried to tell herself this would pass and soon she could hobble home but the pain was breath taking. She'd once seen Peter roll an ankle playing basketball with some fellow agents; she knew he was hurt; for one thing, he had to hobble over to where she was with the assistance of Clinton Jones and young Agent Blake. (Thankfully Neal was not present to see that.) But until now, she had no true idea of the pain her stoic husband had been in.

Looking around to make sure no one had noticed the silly woman with the out of control dog, she and a contrite Satchmo went back home, moving slowly.

_It will pass. Just stay off of it for a while. __**It will pass.**_

Okay. She could do some of this at home, while on the phone. She would elevate her ankle and put ice on it. It would be okay.

_But what a time for this to happen!_

Carefully hobbling into the kitchen, El leaned at the big table in the middle of the room and let out a deep breath. The way up the stairs towards the front door had been a challenge, but in the end she had managed to enter the house without any other incidents. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to figure out what to do next.

_Right. Ice. Elevate. That should work._

A few moments later she slowly limped back into the living room where she could see Satchmo laying next to the sofa. She wasn't angry at him, since it was her own fault that she hadn't been paying attention at the park. But the timing was bad. Very bad. Holding an ice pack in one hand and her cell phone in the other she sat down and propped her now badly swollen right ankle on the sofa. Then she draped a towel over it before she applied the ice pack on it. Leaning back, she closed her eyes again and took deep breaths to calm down. She was still upset about the whole thing, but she needed to stay collected. She needed to get in touch with her assistant Yvonne and everything would be alright. The G.P. Wilson party was too important to be cancelled at all and she doubted that Wilson would accept it anyway. At least he would sue her for everything that would go wrong. Picking up her cell phone, she pressed "5" on speed dial and waited impatiently.

_"Hi, you just reached Yvonne. I'm not available at the moment. Please leave a message and I will call you back. Bye."_

Sighing, El was about to quit the call. She ran a hand through her hair, slowly getting frustrated.

_Great. Just great._

"Hi Yvonne. It's Elizabeth. I know it's kind of a short term, but I need your help with the G.P. Wilson party. Please call back. Thanks." She put the cell back on the table and wasn't sure what to do next. Maybe she just overreacted. Maybe with the ice cooling her ankle she would be able to get back to work again. Carefully she moved her right foot a bit and immediately a sharp pain shot through her feet. "Ouch!"

_Okay, so much for being confident. _

Looking at her watch she realized that Peter still would be sitting in the plane so there was no way to call him right now. And even if she had been able to reach him, there was nothing that he could have done to help her. All she could do now was to wait for Yvonne to call back. There was still time left so nothing was at stake. There was no need to panic. Everything would be okay.

* * *

"Caffrey!" Hughes stood in front of his office and was performing the double finger point.

Neal looked up to him and then back to Jones. Since Peter was out of town, he would be handled by someone else and Neal wasn't sure if that was a good thing. Especially after he had risked the whole investigation and put Jones in unnecessary danger. Not that he had planned to do it, but things went out of his control and he chose to handle things off the book. Unfortunately things had gone worse and for a split second the situation had been out of control. Presumably Hughes was about to give him a lecture. Just like Peter had done. Readjusting his tie, he put on his well known Caffrey smile and started to climb the stairs. "Sir?"

The older agent just pointed towards the office and otherwise stayed silent. It wasn't a secret that he wasn't exactly fond of the former con man and Peter had more than once needed his whole persuasiveness towards his boss to keep partnership between the FBI and Neal working. He stepped into the office once Neal had entered it. "Sit down," he told Neal and then rounded his desk but didn't sit down. Instead he stared at the young man and seemed to be searching for the right words.

Neal obeyed, unsure what to expect. But he didn't show his insecurity. He was a con man at all and still flashed his smile.

Hughes on the other hand looked more than agitated. "I've read Peter's report about what happened yesterday," he started. "And to be honest, I was about to put you back into prison for what you did."

_Wow, Peter had been fast with his report. He must have emailed it to Hughes before leaving town._ "Sir, I had to improvise-"

"Don't say a word," Hughes warned him with his right index finger raised. "You'll listen to me and then you'll do what you've been told. Understood?"

"Absolutely," Neal nodded and felt a bit uneasy. It wasn't useful to argue with Peter's boss.

"Alright," Hughes continued with a low voice. "Peter insisted that I shouldn't press charges against you. Why, I don't know. You play a very dangerous game, Caffrey. I don't care if you kill yourself with those stupid actions of yours. But the moment one of my agents is harmed because of you there's no way to stop me sending you back. Got that?"

"Yes, sir."

"For the next three days, until Peter is back, you'll be doing paperwork and Diana will be in charge of you."

Without showing his surprise, Neal nodded again. Being handled by Diana wasn't something he was looking forward to. Ever since she threatened him to break one or both of his arms if he would try pull anything over her he had to be cautious. Because he was sure she would fulfill her threat without hesitation. Plus, his Caffrey charm never worked on her.

"You can go now."

"Yes, sir. Thank you sir." He stood up and left the office still somewhat stunned about what just had happened. Yet, the things could have been worse. Three days of paperwork were certainly far better than being sent back to prison. He could handle that. Somehow. He just needed to find Agent Blake and convince him to write some more reports. For training purposes only of course.

Jones looked up to him. "How did it go?" After he had calmed down yesterday he wasn't angry anymore. He was well aware that Neal had exposed him to a very dangerous situation, but on the other hand - working with Neal held that certain amount of thrill of having a target on the back. Or having to fear that someone would point a gun to his head. It wasn't something he wanted to happen every day but, in hindsight, the danger wasn't as bad as some of the situations Jones had been in before. Just… unexpected.

"I'm handled by Diana now," Neal answered.

Jones grinned. "Sorry for that."

"Yeah, well," Neal snorted, "I can clearly see that."

"Hey, it's only fair," Jones countered, still smiling.

"And for the next three days it's desk duty only." He made a face and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"You're a lucky man," Jones said nonchalantly. "At least you're not assigned to the van."

A light shiver rand down his spine. Jones was right. "On second thought it isn't that bad at all," he quickly replied. Then he held out his hand. "I'm truly sorry about what happened yesterday."

Jones hesitated for a moment. "Just don't do something like that again. At least not when I'm involved."

Neal was about to say something, when Diana stepped towards them. "Caffrey, stop chit-chatting," she told him and clearly seemed to enjoy the moment. "Those files need to be completed."

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

**_A Friend In Need_**

A/N: Thank you all for reading and reviewing! It means a lot to me!

**_Chapter 2_**

Late afternoon sunlight came through the window as Elizabeth Burke duly sat, ankle elevated and frantically working the phone trying again to reach Yvonne and get the caterer straight about what was expected, no, demanded of her. She sighed; no word from Yvonne (now she was worried there, hoping nothing bad had occurred) and elevating her ankle had done nothing more than give her a nice view of it swelling more by the moment. It was still incredibly painful and Satchmo had spent the afternoon outside simply because she just hurt too much to jump up and down to cater to the dog's whims.

The phone rang, interrupting her dark thoughts. She smiled when she saw the caller ID. "Hi, hon."

"_Hey, hon_," Peter's voice never seemed so welcome, even if he were across the country. "_I'm sitting here in a pretty swank hotel, just wishing I could see my lovely wife sitting here with me."_

El smiled even wider. "Oh really? You mean you haven't been hit on yet by those beautiful coed agents the Bureau recruits these days?"

She could just picture Peter's boyish grin. _"Ah, no. But I've been told to hang out in the bar. So, maybe then."_

"You'd better watch it, Agent Burke. I'll come and get you if I have to." She paused. "Provided I don't have to walk."

Peter's voice took on a worried tone. _"Walk? What happened?"_

"Oh, it is just so stupid. I took Satch out for a walk after you left and he saw a squirrel and then my ankle got twisted and-"

_"What?"_ Her husband was on full alert now. "_How bad is it? Do you need to see the doctor?"_

El sighed. "It has swelled up and it hurts but I don't think it is doctor worthy. It's not as bad as yours was after that basketball game."

_"Yeah, but I didn't have some fat cat event to take care of the next day. El, what are you going to do about that?"_

"I'll be all right," Elizabeth said firmly, fingers crossed hopefully.

_"I don't like this,"_ Peter worried. _"Look, there are any number of people I could call and take you to the doctor-"_

"Now, hold on, mister," Elizabeth cut in. "I can handle this and it will be okay. I probably shouldn't have told you but-"

_"But how would you feel if I did that and I didn't tell you,"_ Peter shot back.

She smiled. "Point taken. And I did tell you, babe. Look, I don't want you worrying about this. There is nothing you can do about it and I can handle the event. I'm just waiting a call back from Yvonne. It will be fine. Now, tell me what you're doing tonight."

There was a pause, which told Elizabeth that Peter was still fretting. Finally, he said, _"Not much tonight. Going to dinner with Larry Carlson from Philly, along with some others. Probably just sit around, drink and exchange war stories. The seminar doesn't start until tomorrow morning. Then, we'll all be hung over."_

Elizabeth laughed and they chatted over some other things, until said Larry Carlson knocked on Peter's door, wanting to know if he could 'come out and play.' Very reluctantly, Peter, given a verbal push by El, hung up, promising to call back later. El clicked off the phone, feeling better for having told Peter but also a bit guilty, for he would be sure and worry about it tonight when he should be having fun.

She sighed; she had to stop panicking and grow up. _And damn it, where was Yvonne? _

…

Eight hours, a lot of coffee and a ton of files later, Neal sighed and rubbed his eyes. He hadn't been able to get a hold of Agent Blake so he needed plan B. Unfortunately there was no plan B so far. But even more so he needed a break. Yawning he stood up and stretched his legs while looking for Diana. He found her talking with Hughes and frowned. Those two were up to something and it annoyed him not knowing about it, although he suspected Peter behind all of this. It was Peter's way to show him that he had screwed up. And the problem was, Neal was well aware of his mistake but hadn't been able to say his apology to Peter. His partner had been fuming all the way back to the bureau and he had been sulking so both of them weren't talking to each other. And now Peter was on the other side of the country which meant he had to behave for at least another 2 days unless he didn't want to find himself into more trouble. Convinced that he had finished a relevant amount but still useless paperwork, he made his way to Diana who had spotted him as well and came towards him. "Do you like a coffee?" he asked her with the sweetest grin he could offer. It was worth a try at least.

"Why do you ask?"

"Just out of curiosity?"

"Oh c'mon Caffrey, you just want to go home," Diana told him bluntly. "And therefore you try to please me."

This woman scared the hell out of him sometimes. No wonder Peter was glad to have her back at the team. Both of them had the same attitude. "Uhm, yeah, well…that thought crossed my mind actually. I mean, that I could go home," he quickly added. "There's no way I would try to please you," he said and shook his head. "Above all, I'm almost done." Proudly he pointed to the stack of files that sat on his desk. "I'll even take the rest of it home and finish it this evening. Promise." He held up his hand like a boy scout. Maybe he could get some help from Mozzie with the files. His friend would love to take a look at those. At first he thought she would condemn him to more paperwork, so he tinkled with the eyelashes. "Pretty please?"

Diana let out a frustrated sigh. "I'll pick you up tomorrow morning seven o'clock sharp."

"I'll be waiting," Neal smiled and was to reply more as his cell phone rang. "Excuse me," he said and grabbed it. After a quick glance at the ID he accepted the call. "Hi Elizabeth. What's up?"

…

Instead of going home Neal found himself in front of the Burke house in Brooklyn. After he had knocked on the front door, he waited patiently but still clueless. Elizabeth's phone call earlier this evening had been a bit cryptic. If she wanted to talk about Peter then he wasn't in the mood for it. Hughes had already made a point about behaving so he didn't need another reminder. To be honest, all he wanted was to get home real soon so that he could finish the files because he had a special date planned for tomorrow evening. His plan was simple - the more files he would finish tonight, the less he had to do tomorrow evening. For months he had longed to visit the art exhibition taking place at the Guggenheim Museum. And the best thing about that was that the Museum was exactly within his 2 miles radius! He smiled when he heard noises and reached for his bag with the files as the door was opened. But his smile vanished as soon as he realized that El was standing on one foot only. "Elizabeth?!" Immediately he let go of the bag and grabbed El's arm instead. "What happened?" he asked concerned.

"A lot," El replied and sighed. She took a deep breath and leaned against Neal. "Everything's a mess and Yvonne called in sick and I am out of options at this point," she said. Her body language was clear; she was hurting and frustrated and above all desperate obviously because she had no help.

"Shh," Neal tried to calm her down. It was obvious that El was very upset. "Why don't we sit down and you explain to me what has happened to you?" Gently he guided her to the couch while at the same time he tried to avoid Satchmo who was constantly running around them. "Easy, pal. Easy," he approached the dog hoping that none of them would trip over him. As soon as they reached the couch, Neal helped her to sit down. "Do you want a glass of water?" he asked but didn't wait for an answer and went straight to the kitchen. A few moments later he returned and placed the glass on the table.

El nodded thankfully but didn't reach for the water. Instead she chuckled. "You know, I feel slightly embarrassed over the fuss. But to be honest, I really have nowhere to turn to."

Neal sat down next to her and embraced her with one arm. "Well," he said calmly, "why don't you telling me what's embarrassing you?" Although he sounded composed he was agitated inside because of the strange behavior of El. He could feel that El relaxed a bit and he continued to gently rub his hand up and down her upper arm. "How did you hurt your ankle?" he asked in order to start a conversation.

"It…it was my fault, not Satchmo's." She shook her head. "Sorry, I don't make any sense, do I?"

Neal smiled slightly. "Not quite. What did Satchmo do?"

"We were at the park this morning and then…I was lost in thoughts and I didn't pay attention. Satch saw a squirrel and wanted to go after it and I…my foot got caught and I twisted it."

"Ouch," Neal said and made a face. "Did you get checked out?"

"God, no! It's just a twisted ankle, Neal. I just need to put some ice on it. It'll be fine."

Being a good observer he said, "You seem quite upset, though."

Frustrated she ran a hand through her hair. "Tomorrow there will be a party and I'm supposed to host it. First I thought that I could handle things from home and that Yvonne would step in. But she called me two hours ago and said that she has come down with the flu and now I'm back at square one. Even worse, I just called the caterer to check things over again, " she stopped and shook her head in disbelieve, "and have to learn that they messed up with the schedules. Which means there will be no food at the party. And I can't find another one in this short amount of time." Despite the serious situation, she appeared calm when she added, " I have a mess on my hand and I don't know quite what to do."

Neal pulled his cell phone out of his inside pocket. "There will always be hope," he replied softly while he was already looking for solutions. "So…tell me about the party."

El blinked, obviously surprised by his confidence.

Shrugging with his shoulders, Neal started to grin. "If I am going to help you, I need as much information as possible."

"I really hate to ask you this, Neal, but-"

"No buts," Neal shook his head. "I'm already in, Elizabeth."

…

She had just made her painful way up to bed when the phone rang. There was no need to look at the number. "Hi, hon."

_"El, how are you doing?"_ Peter's worry was evident in his voice.

She sighed; knowing he was probably ruining his time away with fretting about her. "I'm all right. Made it up the stairs," she added with a nervous laugh. She had assured Neal there would be no problem before he left but it had been a slow process.

_"El, I can tell them I have a situation at home and I need to leave tomorrow. There's a flight going out at 8am; I could be on it."_

"Peter, if I were in the hospital I would tell you to take that flight right now. But I'm not and I don't think the Bureau would approve of you coming home just to help me with an event."

_"What happened to Yvonne?"_ Peter asked flatly, like he had already guessed there was trouble.

El frowned; it really was so tiresome being married to a smart man sometimes. "She, uh, is sick."

Her short answers had ratcheted up her husband's worry. _"Okay, what is going on? How are you handling this?"_

Elizabeth visibly composed herself. "Okay, Agent Burke. Here is the situation. Yvonne is ill and she can't help me for the event. My ankle hurts – big time. But I have help; really good help." She paused. "I called Neal."

There was a long silence on the line, so much so that El began to worry that Peter's cell had dropped the call. "Peter, say something! Are you upset?"

After an audible sigh, her husband finally spoke. _"El, I am so sorry I'm not there."_

"Peter, it is not the end of the world. Although earlier today I thought it might be. I really kind of freaked out over the whole thing. But Neal came right over when I called and he is going to help me tomorrow." A light dawned. "But this will make it awkward for you at work, won't it?"

_"Well, it is pretty tough to discipline somebody who is helping your wife out, on his own time. But that isn't my primary concern, El. I should be there."_

"And I wish you were here. But I am not going to have you in trouble at work because I took a fall. Neal will be here and he will help me. You don't doubt that, do you?"

_"No,"_ Peter answered promptly, to her great relief. _"You can count on him, El."_

"Then we'll deal with everything else after you get back," Elizabeth replied firmly. After that the talk drifted to trivial things and ended with her commanding her husband to go back downstairs to the bar and have some fun. After they hung up, she sat on the edge of the bed, looking thoughtful. Neal had done some very questionable things to her husband and some downright sneaky ones. But she truly believed he would not use this situation to his advantage. If nothing else, there was no Kate to find, nor treasure to hang onto. But she hoped she hadn't put Peter in a difficult situation nonetheless.

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

**_Chapter 3  
_**

Still a bit tired Neal climbed up the stairs to the Burkes home the next morning. It was about 6 o'clock but the traffic was already busy. He had stayed late yesterday night to make sure everything was in order and came back first thing in the morning to make breakfast. Yawning he took out the spare key El had given him and he let himself in (not that he would have needed a key anyway). He dropped the grocery bag to the ground and listened cautiously but couldn't hear a sound while he stood in the hallway. But only a few seconds later the tapping from Satchmo's paws on the hard floor could be heard. The lab came to him happily wagging his tail. "Hey buddy," Neal greeted him quietly and knelt down to scratch the dog behind his ears. Standing up again he grabbed the bag and went into the kitchen to store away the groceries he just had bought. "Let's get you outside," he said after he had finished and looked for the leash. "Okay, here we go."

Returning half an hour later, Neal made sure that Satchmo's feet were clean before entering the house again. After that he went into the kitchen and began preparing the breakfast. Totally engrossed with his mission he didn't see El coming to the kitchen.

"Good morning," she greeted him and looked at him in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"Uhm, breakfast?" Neal replied surprised, too. "And I wish you a good morning, too Elizabeth." Smiling, he gestured to the table. "Sit down, please. How's the ankle?"

She limped to the chair. "A little bit better, but still hurting," she answered and inhaled the air. "Smells good."

"Thanks. Coffee? Tea?" he asked and worked on the scrambled eggs. "And are you sure you won't go to the hospital?"

"Neal, I've already told you yesterday. I'm fine," El said and quickly added, "yeah, well, as fine as I can be with a swollen ankle. Still can't put any weight on it though and walking is out of question I guess."

"See? I'd feel better if you would go to the doctor. Besides, Peter will kill me if we don't have that ankle checked out."

Elizabeth had to smile. "Don't you worry. Peter already knows. And to answer your earlier question - coffee, please."

Defeated, Neal rolled his eyes. "Alright. Just for the record - I did ask you. Twice." He came to her and handed her a mug of coffee.

It was then that Elizabeth realized that Neal didn't wear one of his designer suits but jeans and t-shirt. "Wait, aren't you supposed to work?"

"Nope," he said and grinned. "I've called Diana and I'm free to go. Figuratively." He went back to the stove and put the scrambled eggs on two plates altogether with some slices of toast. "Apparently the FBI trusts me hanging around Peter Burke's wife and that I won't run."

"Seriously? If you would run? Peter will find you, no matter what."

"Yeah, I guess they figured out the same thing." He put the plates down. "Enjoy your meal! We have quite a lot of work waiting for us." Last evening he had spent almost two hours calling in favors and so far he had succeeded.

"You weren't joking yesterday, were you?" El asked stunned. "About helping me?"

"Of course not!" Neal shook his head. "Everything's in order. Tony, my manager at 'The Greatest Cake' is handling the dessert and he happens to have a friend who is able to jump in with the food. Sort of. We will have to take a look at the menu in order to…," he paused for a moment, "…to reschedule some points. But we'll manage this. Trust me." The charming Caffrey smile appeared on his face. "It's like planning a con. And you know I'm very good at this. It'll be fun."

…

"Okay," Neal said and stretched his back while sitting at the table at Elizabeth's office where they have met with Tony and his friend Giancarlo. Tapping his pen on the notepad in front of him, he scanned the topics. For the last 2 hours he and El had been rescheduling and now it seemed that they had everything in order. It was like planning a heist. "Moz will take care of the wine and cheese and will also be our additional man in case something else comes up. Tony, you have everything you need?"

"Yes, Mr. Caffrey. I'm gonna head back and start right along."

Neal nodded and looked at Giancarlo. "And you?"

"I have some no problems with the menu, but I'm afraid there's another problem, though."

Fearing another bad news, El eyed him cautiously and took a deep breath. "Yes?"

"Well, since your approach is on short notice, I'm lacking one cook. I mean, I can do most of the meals myself, but it would take too long," Giancarlo explained with his Italian accent.

Neal thought about it and answered, "I think I know someone who can step in."

"That someone," Giancarlo made clear, tapping his index finger on the table, "must have experience with cooking. I don't have the time to explain every single step, you know."

"That should be no problem," Neal smiled.

"Okay, in that case…I'm confident that everything will work out," Giancarlo said and quickly added, "I'm thinking about something like an historic and modern cuisine theme. How about scampis with sweet and sour onions or guinea fowl terrine, homemade ravioli and old-fashioned duck with wild apple. Have you ever tried strawberry and basil soup? Oh and my famous passion fruit pudding. It's delicious! You must try it."

"I'm afraid we have a tight cost frame-"

The grey haired man shook his head. "It's okay. We can handle that. If we're still too pricey, I'm gonna take that one on me, signora."

"But...," El interrupted.

"Like I said," Giancarlo insisted and smiled, "I own Tony a favor and I'd be more than happy to help you out. We Italians feel very strong about paying debts." He looked at Neal. "Maybe we can do more business with you in the future. The bakery is one of the best in town. It would match perfectly with our services."

Suddenly Neal felt reminded of Don Corleone from the "Godfather" movies. Which wasn't that offbeat, since Giancarlo had a stunning resemblance with said criminal. But Giancarlo was an honest civilian. Chuckling, he answered, "Sounds good. I'm sure we can work something out."

Tony and Giancarlo stood up and shook hands with Neal. "Call me, if anything comes up, alright?" Neal said.

"I'm afraid I'll have to remain seated," El replied sheepishly. The swelling on her ankle hadn't changed much so she preferred to keep it elevated.

"Ci sono cose peggiori," Giancarlo replied and smiled. "Sorry, old habit. It means-"

"There are worse things," Neal quickly stepped in and said to him in fluent Italian, "Molte grazie per il vostro aiuto."

Giancarlo raised his eyebrows and then laughed. "Why didn't you tell me that he speaks Italian?" he asked his fried Tony.

"I didn't know."

Looking at Neal, he grinned and shook his head in amusement before he said, "Prego. Fino ad allora." With Tony in tow, Giancarlo went to the exit and stepped out.

"See you!" After the two men had left, El turned to Neal and was still a bit stunned. "You speak Italian? You still surprise me, even after all these years."

"Yeah, well...what can I say? I'm a genius," Neal laughed out loud.

"I'm glad Peter didn't hear this," El replied and laughed, too.

"I guess he already knows."

"He would never admit it."

"True, but still…," Neal didn't finish the sentence and eyed El. For the first time since last evening she seemed to be convinced that they could handle the party and she visibly relaxed. He looked at his watch. "Okay, I think we have some time left. Do you want some coffee?"

"Sounds great. Wait, let me get it."

"Don't even think of standing up and going to the coffee machine," Neal told her with a stern voice. "I think I can manage this task, too." He went to the back office and after a short while he had found all the necessary things to get the machine started. A few minutes later he came back with two cups of freshly brewed coffee and sat down next to El.

"I don't know how I can ever thank you enough for doing this," El said and was really touched. "It means a lot to me."

"It's only coffee," Neal joked, well aware what she really wanted to say.

El slapped him slightly on his arm. "You know what I mean!"

"I'm honored to help you out, Elizabeth. Besides, now I'm really curious about tonight's dinner. Sounds great, what do you think?"

"Great? It's perfect! Mr. Wilson will love it, I'm sure." She stopped and frowned slightly. "I just hope that-"

"Everything will be fine," Neal said like he had read her mind. "Don't worry. It's a shame though that we don't have Peter as the bartender," he grinned.

El looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, that's…a long story," he answered and smirked. "I'll tell you someday."

"You are mean," El said and pretended to be pouting. "Why don't you tell me now?"

"Because NOW we still have some work to do."

…

The party was in full swing a few hours later and El was happy. She had changed into an evening dress and had been there since Neal had dropped her and drove off with her car to get "something done". She had been worried, but Neal had smiled at her and had reassured her to not worry. Since then, he was gone. After she had realized that fact, she felt a bit uneasy, but since no one from the FBI had called her and had asked about Neal, she was confident that so far Neal hadn't done anything wrong. A voice brought her back to reality and she blinked a few times.

"Mrs. Burke! I'm glad that you are still here, so I can thank you," he said with a cheerful voice and stepped to her table in the background.

Startled, El looked up and smiled briefly. "Oh, Mr. Wilson, you're welcome. I'm glad that you enjoy the evening."

"I've noticed that you have some issues. I hope you are okay."

"It's nothing. I've twisted my ankle yesterday, but it's getting better. I hope everything is like you wished for."

"It's beyond that. It's perfect." His smile was radiant. "The cheese and wine selection is superb, even if that guy is a bit…extraordinary."

El glanced towards Mozzie, who seemed to be enjoying himself. He wore a waiter garment and surely was telling the guest his theories, even if they weren't interested at all. "Well, yes. Mr. Haversham can be quite…entertaining."

"That's for sure," Wilson nodded. "And I must admit, I was doubtful about the rescheduling with the menu, but you have outdone yourself."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Wilson, but the thanks is due to someone else. But I make sure that the cook will be informed about your praise," she answered and was relieved. Just as she was about to add something, she spotted Neal on the other side of the room. He was wearing one of his Devore suits. "Oh, I think my driver has arrived," she gestured towards him.

Neal came to them, showing his charming smile. "I'm sorry for the delay, Elizabeth," he apologized politely and shook hands with Wilson. "Good evening, sir. I'm Neal Caffrey."

"Good evening, Mr. Caffrey. Will you excuse me; I'm supposed to get back to my guests. Again, Mrs. Burke, thank you for the excellent service."

"You're welcome, Mr. Wilson." El let out a deep breath as soon as Wilson was gone. "Wow. I still can't believe it." She looked at Neal. "We've made it!"

"Did you expect something else?" He winked at her. "Ready to go home?"

"Oh, yes please. I want to change into something more comfortable."

"Your wish is my command," Neal said and offered her his arm.

Accepting his offer, she took his arm while they slowly made the way towards the exit. She noticed the scent of shower gel and his still damp hair and was somehow proud of her observation skills. But the longer she thought about it, she decided not to ask why Neal had taken a shower while he was gone. It probably would be better not to know.

…

About twenty minutes later, Neal pulled the car into a stop right in front of the Burkes home and helped her gently upstairs. Once inside, they were greeted by an overjoyed Satchmo. "You want to change first? Or dinner?"

"You don't have to cook."

"Nah, I got that covered." He waved with one hand.

She watched him as he got outside and shook her head. Neal had been a great help the last two days and she had no clue how to thank him appropriately. Sighing she hobbled to the cupboard and got the dishes out. She had to talk to Peter in order to get Neal his well deserved reward. True to his words, Neal appeared a few moments later and carried a big Styrofoam box. "You keep surprising me," El said and pointed at the box. "What's in there?"

"Alright," he said. "I've got the whole menu from tonight. One for you and one for Peter. He can heat it up when he's home tomorrow." He placed the box on the table, but didn't open it.

"W-wait, why don't you stay?"

"Uhm, actually, I wanted to take Satch for walk while you are eating and then…," he looked at his watch and frowned, "…then it will be too late to get to the exhibition." He sighed and slumped his shoulders.

"Exhibition? You wanted to go to an exhibition this evening?"

"THE exhibition," he corrected her. "The Kandinsky collection. I've longed for this for months and tonight was the last date, but…," he took a deep breath and couldn't hide his disappointment, "…well, it seems that it wasn't meant to be."

A rush of guilt came over El. "Oh Neal," she sighed. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. Why didn't you say something?" She went to him and touched his arm.

"I thought there would be enough time left, but Giancarlo and I were really busy in the kitchen and somehow I lost track of time," Neal smiled but his frustration was still evident.

Again, El was stunned. "You…were helping Giancarlo?" Suddenly an idea formed and her eyes got big because of her discovery. "That's why you had showered! You…were helping in the kitchen! You cooked!"

"I'm capable of doing that, yes."

"No, no, that's not what I meant," she said quickly. "It's just…I…wow, I don't know what to say."

"But I do. Let's sit down and enjoy your meal before it gets cold." He opened the box and got some packages out which were wrapped with aluminum foil. Then he turned toward the lab. "Come on, buddy."

"Don't you want to eat something, too?"

"Oh, I'm good. I grabbed a little bit while cooking," he chuckled.

"I insist that you stay and get a decent meal," El answered and her voice didn't leave much room for interpretation.

"But Satch?"

"He can wait. Just let him outside in the backyard."

Neal nodded and opened the door. The lab quickly escaped outside and Neal closed the door again. "I'll get something to drink. What do you want? I forgot to get a bottle from Mozzie."

"Believe it or not, but there are some bottles of wine in the Burke household waiting to be opened."

"I'm impressed."

After they had finished, Neal left with Satchmo while El changed into casual clothes. He returned thirty minutes later and was obviously in a better mood. Maybe the walk and the fresh air helped him to calm down. She smiled. "I'm still thrilled about the meal. It was delicious! I'm willing to get Giancarlo's service on more occasions," she told him and put the last item into the dishwasher.

"Why are you walking around? I would have taken care of the dishes."

"Neal, you've done more than enough already. Besides, it's a twisted ankle, for heaven's sake. It's not broken," she smiled and limped towards the couch.

"You were lucky. Imagine if it was really broken. That would have been nasty, I can tell you."

"You are speaking from experience?"

Neal hesitated. "I've had a broken arm as a kid. But I guess a broken ankle would be much worse."

El sat down and looked at Neal. "What happened?" She knew from Peter that Neal didn't talk much about his childhood, so she gave it a try.

Again, Neal seemed to weight his options. "It's late and I-" Suddenly he shrugged his shoulders then he sat down on the armchair. "Well, I was about eight and I wanted to impress the kids. So I took a belt and a drape and climbed up to the backyard shed. I felt damn cool with this…," he laughed, "…I thought I was Superman. I told them to watch and jumped. The result was a broken arm. But I've also got a kiss from one of the neighborhood girls." His grin was breathtaking and his eyes lit up with those memories.

El laughed out loud. "I can imagine this." She went silent for a moment. "You know, with those glasses on you really look like Clark Kent."

"I liked disguises. I always loved to pretend to be someone else."

"A superhero. Like your father." She knew that this topic was a sore spot for Neal, but she had the feeling that Neal was comfortable telling her this. Peter had spent hours talking about Neal's background with her while hunting him, but it was just two years ago that Neal had actually talked about his father at all.

"Probably. Just like any other kid, I guess."

"But unlike any other kid, you kept your way of living someone else's life."

"Yeah, I'm privileged."

"I thought more of a modern Peter Pan."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Of course." El leaned back on the couch and enjoyed the light conversation. "But your superman action wasn't the only stunt you pulled, right? I think you were quite a handful as a kid."

"It wasn't always easy growing up without a father," he confessed, his voice low.

"I guess so."

He started to laugh unexpectedly. "Once I fooled the Marshals and took a drive with the car from someone of the neighbors. At that time I was Earnhardt, you know? I took the opportunity and hit the road. Fast. Real fast. But I didn't see the ditch. First, I took out a mailbox, then I hit a fence and finally came to a stop in a barn. The cops came and called…," he stopped, swallowing hard. "They informed my mother, but it was Ellen who lectured me."

El nodded sympathetically. The young man still mourned the death of his surrogate mother.

"At least I met the farmer's daughter," he smiled sadly.

She tried to lighten up the mood a bit as she replied, "You know, maybe that Earnhardt thing is the reason why Peter doesn't want you to drive the Ford."

A grin appeared on Neal's face. "He doesn't know about this." Then he frowned. "At least I think so."

"Speaking of Peter…," El continued, "…now I want to hear about him as a bartender…"

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N: Thank you so much for all of your lovely reviews! They are very much appreciated! Also, I want to take the opportunity to thank my dear friend last1stnding once more for your help. Without your incredible insight and knowledge of the characters the story would never have turned out this way._**

This is the last chapter. But I'm working on a new story, so stay tuned…

**_Chapter 4_**

Neal was sleeping in late, the Bureau having unexpectedly given him Friday off. He wondered if that meant trouble but nothing seemed in the offing so he lingered in bed, feeling tired. Surprising how honest work could be so exhausting, he thought muzzily. Glancing at the bedside clock, he was aghast to see it was already past noon. Strange nobody had called or made themselves at home. He indulged in a long shower and a leisurely breakfast. Checking his phone there had been another thank you message from Elizabeth but that was it. It was later in the day he started to feel that vague sense of unease; Peter was due back today. By now, Neal was feeling real remorse from his reckless actions the other day and he wondered if Peter would come back in a good mood or if the agent was still angry. He thought he might have won some brownie points by helping out Elizabeth however…

Who was he kidding? He would have helped Elizabeth out whether or not Peter was mad at him or being his best friend. Sometimes he wondered why he thought along those lines – but most of the time it was ingrained, a habit that could not be broken. Besides, that kind of thinking had helped him out of many of tight spot before.

Unconsciously he began to watch the time and then as the afternoon turned into evening and there was no call, Neal started to get miffed. _Just use me and throw me away, like the Bureau, _he thought sourly, deciding to build a wall of resentment. Moz called on nothing every important, Neal cut him off abruptly and then it was silence again.

By the time the phone rang Neal had worked himself into a snit but he still jumped at the first ring, cringing when his treacherous hand went ahead and answered the call. _About time._

_"Hey."_ A weary sounding Peter Burke greeted his rather snippy hello.

"How's Elizabeth?" Neal asked.

_"She's all right; mending. And staying off her ankle today."_

"She was talking about picking you up from the airport yesterday," Neal informed him.

_"Incredible as it may be, I won that battle,"_ Peter replied. _"Flight was delayed a couple of times and it was hell to catch a shuttle by the time I made it to New York, but I finally got home a couple of hours ago."_

"That's nice," Neal said formally. "Glad you made it."

_"Neal,"_ Peter's voice took on a new timbre, that serious, soft voice that meant pay attention, _"I want to thank you for everything you've done. El tells me she could not have coped without you the other day. It, well, it means a lot to me that you came over."_

For his part, Neal wasn't sure if he was proud of the praise (well, yeah, he was, a little) or offended that Peter would think he would ever hesitate over something like this. "You know I would always be there for Elizabeth, don't you?"

_"Yes, I do,"_ Peter replied quietly. _"No matter what comes between us, I know you will always help El. But sometimes I do say thank you. When it's not parole related of course," he added hastily._

Neal couldn't help it; he laughed. "Killed you to say that, didn't it?"

To his relief, there was laughter in Peter's voice as well. _"A little."_

Neal shook his head. "Did you have a good time?"

_"It was all right,"_ Peter replied. _"Didn't do much though. Most of the stuff I already knew, for better or worse. But I mainly wanted to say thank you and ask what you are doing tomorrow night?"_

"Well," Neal fought the urge to make to make up a story; nothing to be gained by admitting he was at loose ends. But, really, what was there to say? To his chagrin, he blurted the truth. "Nothing much, I guess."

_"Well, El and I don't want to interrupt your busy life but I guess we're going to that, wait, what is it called, El?"_ Neal heard Elizabeth's voice in the background with a smile, _"Kandinsky exhibition and we wondered if you want to go along? They are having a special showing before it leaves."_

"What? It is still here?" Neal blinked. "**You** are actually going?"

He could almost see Peter shrug. _"I guess we owe you,"_ he said glumly. Elizabeth exclaimed, "Peter!" in the background.

Neal laughed. "I am so totally there! You will love it Peter!" He proceeded to explain the exhibition's many fine points to a completely unimpressed and tired Peter who, no longer willing to hear more, handed the phone to El.

...

"This is great. Isn't this great? Don't you just love the color?" Neal enthused to Peter, who walked along with his hands in his pockets, looking a bit bored. "Look at the originality!"Neal stopped to admire a huge wall sized mural.

Peter looked too, but he stood in astonishment, rather than admiration. "Somebody actually managed to make money throwing paint fastballs on a huge canvas? Wow, there has to be some sort of fraud in that," he added, his tone taking on a new measure of respect.

"You have no imagination," Neal informed him pompously.

Peter however, was still lost in his idea of money making. "You know I could get a bunch of different colors, have Satchmo run through them and make an obscene lot of money on multi colored dog prints. Throw some fancy title on it like The March of Society – and clean up the cash." He brightened. "Maybe this isn't such a bad idea after all. It would certainly beat a government pension."

Neal looked annoyed. "You are a complete Philistine, you know. I think you should know that, in case no one has told you before."

Peter smirked. "Whatever."

They strolled on, arguing and walking. Elizabeth grinned as she sat in the coffee shop watching them. She had wanted to accompany them on the entire tour. However, her ankle had improved but was still on the sore side, so she decided to wait until they reached the special part of the exhibition, for wealthy patrons only. This part of the exhibition – the Kandinsky - had been held over without publicity and, as it happened, the part Neal most wanted to see. The museum had been justifiably nervous having Neal Caffrey, master thief and forger, attend their private showing but between her vouching for him and Peter's shield, Peter had been able to swing it, with the proviso that he never leave Neal unattended. And it looked like Neal was supremely happy with the whole thing. Elizabeth was glad; he had really saved her the other day. It was the least she could do.

When they finally returned, Elizabeth got up to join them on the special exhibit. "Are you boys playing nice?" she asked formally.

"Elizabeth, we are having a wonderful time. Aren't we, Peter?" Neal's joy shone from his eyes.

"Yeah, cool," Peter said flatly, itching to check his phone for the Rangers score.

Elizabeth laughed and linked arms with Peter while giving Neal's arm a squeeze.

Later, when they were nearly finished, Elizabeth stood next to Neal. "I hope this is some way conveys my thanks for all of your help, Neal. I literally could not have done it without you."

Neal shrugged but his smile betrayed his true feelings, an odd event for Neal Caffrey. "Well, I needed to get back in Peter's good books."

El froze; _please don't let him mean that._

Observant as ever, Neal smiled again but this time it was a bit strained. "I guess that was a bad reason why, wasn't it?"

"Kind of. But it wasn't the only reason though, was it, Neal?" Elizabeth asked firmly.

Neal squirmed a bit but finally admitted, "No. Of course not. But I don't know what Peter will say," he nodded to where Peter stood with a security guard, both trying to catch the hockey game on their phones, although Neal was never out of the agent's sight.

"I think Peter is saying thank you," Elizabeth replied, with a small smile on her lips. "This may come as a surprise to you, but he doesn't normally attend these kinds of shows."

Peter rejoined them as Neal chuckled. "Are we done here?" he asked hopefully.

Elizabeth glanced at Neal, questioning. "Well, we could do a little more in depth look at the Romantics section-"

Both he and Elizabeth laughed when they noticed Peter's look of frozen horror. "No, we are done here," Neal relented but he took one last wistful look around.

"How about joining us for dinner tonight?" Peter asked hastily, not liking the look in Neal's eyes.

"Sure. Where are you going?"

"We thought we'd let you pick," Elizabeth said firmly, with a sharp look at Peter, who nodded reluctantly.

Neal smiled. "I suppose we could try that new French place on 29th; their cuisine and wine list are said to be superb."

"Don't you need reservations?" Peter asked quickly, hope rising in his voice.

Neal sighed. "Well, I could probably get us in without them." Noticing Peter's look of disappointment and Elizabeth about to scold him for it, Neal quickly added, "Or we could go to that Italian place around the corner. The bar has a nice television."

"You might have mentioned that first," Peter grumbled.

Elizabeth shushed him. "It really is your choice tonight, Neal. Is that what you want?"

Neal glanced at Peter, who nodded, putting a good face on it. "She's right. But don't do anything illegal getting into that French place," he added hastily.

Neal smiled. "It's okay. As it happens, I'm in the mood for Italian tonight."

"We can still make the fourth quarter," Peter agreed enthusiastically. As they started to leave, he paused. "El, maybe we should get you a cab?"

"I'm fine; it will take longer to flag down a cab tonight than it's worth. Just don't walk at FBI speed, no matter how much you want to watch the fourth quarter."

Smiling, Peter put his arm around her shoulders and Neal led the way, opening the doors and chattering about the art, obviously in a good mood. Earlier, Peter had informed him there would be no formal reprimands for Neal on his actions earlier, but he had given Neal the 'be careful' speech, for the hundredth time so Neal claimed. Peter shot back that he wouldn't have to do it so often if Neal would only listen the first time.

While they walked over to the restaurant, dodging the large crowds on Saturday night, Elizabeth turned to her husband. "By the way, I have an event coming up next month that I could really use an expert bartender, honey. Are you interested?"

"What?" Peter sputtered, Neal laughed, Peter glared, and Neal looked unconcerned. Elizabeth tightened her hold on her husband's arm, smiling as Peter stammered through an explanation about the origins of Kevin the bartender.

It was funny; Elizabeth thought while walking between Peter and Neal, how such a bad week could end so well after all.

**_END_**


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